


5 Times He Kissed Her, And One Time She Kissed Him

by Leviathans



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-11 04:59:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1168966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leviathans/pseuds/Leviathans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And that was how d’Artagnan came crashing into her life, kissing before he spoke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	5 Times He Kissed Her, And One Time She Kissed Him

1\. “I’ll give you five louvre to kiss me.”

At first she thought it may have been a thief.  Her mother has always warned her to keep her wits about herself, which, though she tried to abide by was easy to forget when there was time to browse the marketplace with no hurry to be anywhere. Hence, when a hand gripped her shoulder and spun her around Constance was already berating herself for being such an easy target. 

But this she had not expected.

The feeling of lips pressing hard against hers had shocked any further thoughts from her mind, and it was only after a few moments of struggling against this stranger’s hold that she was finally let go. As she wrenched herself backwards, the assailant- which Constance decided was a very generous name for the wretch of a stranger, had mumbled something to one side. By this time Constance had come to her senses and had aimed a sharp knee towards his groin. It had the desired effect, the stranger doubling over as his face twisted in pain. 

“Degenerate! Lay your hands on me again and I’ll gut you like a fish.” The warning sounded harsh in her mouth and she meant every word, small knife poised in front of her just in case. At this point she was rather proud of the way she had handled the situation - having put the stranger out of action and finishing with an imposing threat. But she could feel her curious streak surging inside her, and rather than leaving it there she found herself demanding “Do I look like a working girl to you?”

The young man had just about composed himself and gave a wheezing retort. “Well . . Yes.”

Cheeky Sod.

“This is my best dress! How does this say prostitute to you?” But before she could get any sort of response the young man had begun staggering away mumbling apologies and her rage slowly started turning into concern. Then the stranger had collapsed and before she knew it he was in her guest room unconscious as she sponged his forehead, cursing her constantly forgiving personality.

And that was how d’Artagnan came crashing into her life, kissing before he spoke. 

 

2\. As she looked at the man crumpled on the ground Constance was horrified. She had killed him. The thought played over and over in her mind, all sense of adventure present earlier vanished as she tried to calm her shaking hands. Was he married? Did he have a family? Her throat was dry and she felt sick.

Quite why she agreed to help them was still not certain. The prospect of retaining a long term lodger who could keep up with the rent was definitely a factor, but that thought had not come close to crossing her mind when she opened the door to an out of breath d’Artagnan asking if she could perhaps do him a tiny favour. Constance had tried in vain to bite back the feelings of excitement at being asked to join them, but as details of the plan were revealed it became less of a thrill and more the prospect of utter embarrassment. The assurance that she would be helping to save Athos’ life was the clincher that meant she ended up standing in that stupid dress in the snow propositioning the worlds’ most slow in the uptake guard. Still, it was that or an evening of embroidery. 

Constance no longer felt ridiculous, just numb as her revulsion for her actions caught up with her. She hardly noticed the cloak that was wrapped around her shoulder, still focused on the dead body at her feet. 

“I killed him” she mumbled lamely, her voice hoarse and close to breaking.

“You saved my life” was the response, and as Constance turned to look at him she found comfort in d’Artangnan’s words. She held onto that thought, that without her he may be the one lying on the ground instead. It wasn’t quite the whole truth but at that moment it gave her something to focus on. D’Artagnan was still staring at her, his had lightly stroking her cheek; an act of reassurance rather than of romance, but she could not meet his gaze.

“Take me home, my husband will be back soon” Constance muttered, sounding much firmer than she felt as she bit back the lump in the back of her throat that was threatening to engulf her. It had not been exciting, shooting the man. It had not lit up a fire in her belly that she had heard described by so many soldiers. It had been awful, and as he put his arm around her to draw her close Constance realised d’Artagnan knew that. She leant into him and allowed herself to be led back to the others, feeling after a few steps him pressing kiss on her head. It was his form of a thank you, for to have said it wouldn’t have been quite right. At that moment it was the most comforting thing he could have done, and the numbness that had spread through her began to ebb away.

 

3\. This was becoming far too familiar. One hand tangled in her hair, the other gripping her waist as his lips locked firmly with hers. She was transported back to that fateful meeting in the market and the same basic reaction returned, knee ready to jerk forward at any moment. Constance suppressed the urge as he pulled away, opening her mouth to shout before d’Artagnan cut her off.

“Shh, we’re being watched.” The stifled urgency in his tone was obvious and she couldn’t help glancing around to try and spot their observer. “Now for God’s sake kiss me back and make it look good” he instructed, pulling her towards him again. The kiss was less of a shock this time, but her brain was still scattered from moments before and she didn’t respond to his lips moving over hers. Once they broke apart she couldn’t help herself and confessed all the worries she had about him and what on earth had happened. He had gone to jail! He had been abandoned by the others, gone on the run and yet here he was kissing her with minimal explanation as of course was the norm with d’Artagnan. Still, no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t sustain any anger towards him as a mixture of relief and concern coursed through her, alleviated a little by his insistence of his innocence. For the second time Constance found herself inviting him into his home after a kiss and a lack of an explanation. A pattern was beginning to emerge here she thought, but as he looked down at her with his gratitude written on his face, she knew there was nothing she wouldn’t do to keep this man safe.

“You are the kindest and best woman I have ever known” he said with such sincerity that it was impossible not to believe him.

“Or the stupidest.“ Despite her sharp retort his words touched her, and her heart seemed to jump to her throat as he continued to stare at her like there was no one else on earth but them. Constance berated herself from being so foolish, and though she banished all thoughts of d’Artagnan from her mind his words stayed with her. 

She was married. A married woman and he was her lodger, that was all. 

“The kindest and best woman I have ever known” For all her time having a husband it was the most thoughtful compliment she had ever been paid.

 

4\. Constance was chatting as she led him to the door, all earlier warnings of being inconspicuous long forgotten. 

“If you’ve heard of anyone wanting a room I’d be glad to know, my husband needs the money. Its not easy to find decent lodgers, every time one of them gets themselves killed in a duel or thrown in the Chatelet in some intrigue or other it’s a tremendous inconvenience.” She paused for a moment at the door and he let her words sink in. D’Artagnan hadn’t really stopped to think about how his arrival must have turned the Bonacieux household on its head, and whilst she joked about the short stays of lodgers he was sorry for the upheaval he had caused. He had kissed her twice to get out of a scrape and though he had apologised the first time he had never really made it up to her. Constance had been fantastic to him, which was much more than he deserved and as he watched her talking away, more to herself than to him, he vowed that he would find a way to thank her for everything she had done. He took her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, but before he could relay his gratitude to her, the sound of the outraged Monsieur Bonacieux filled his ears. His apologies would have to wait.  

 

5 “Constance!” D’Artagnan hurried through the crowded square, his voice only just distinguishable from the clamour of the throng. He mentally scolded himself for panicking as much as he was, yet he could not shut up the tiny nagging voice in his head spelling out all of the things that could have happened, including but not limited to kidnapping, fire and theft.

Technically it was just a thief they were after; nothing particularly out of the ordinary. However, the fact that the man in question had a propensity for arson and had sworn to raise the Musketeers’ homes to the ground meant there was cause for heightened concern. This man had been into d’Artangnan’s room before, which is why as Athos and Porthos searched the city boarders and Aramis and Treville protected the Musketeers’ lodgings, he was left stumbling through the market square in an attempt to ensure the Bonacieux household was still standing. 

D’Artagnan didn’t quite feel like facing the fact that it was the Lady of the house rather than the building that drew his frantic concern.

After falling into the third innocent bystander d’Artagnan finally reached the house and pounded on the door, shaking it on its hinges. A few moments passed with no reply before he hammered on the door again.

“Constance!” he belted out with all the authority he could muster. After there was still no answer he hurled himself sideways at the creaking door until the latch gave and he ended up sprawled on the floor. In hindsight it was a stupid thing to do which required extra payment on top of rent for a new lock to be fitted, but at the time it felt completely sensible. Scrambling to his feet, d’Artagnan poked his head through each doorway to scan the rooms for any sign of the bandit. 

“Ahem.”

Spinning round he came face to face with Constance who was standing in the middle of the hall, smiling in bemusement with her eyebrows raised as she waited for an explanation. He was dimly aware of how ridiculous he looked, breathing heavily with his hair plastered to his face and eyes darting around like a trapped animal’s, but his joy at seeing her unharmed pushed all of that aside.

“D’Artagnan what on earth is going on-” she began but was cut off by d’Artagnan pulling her into a bone crushing hug, arms wrapped tightly around her back.

“There was a man who said he’d burn the house down with you in it, and you didn’t answer the door and I didn’t know where you were . . “ he mumbled into her ear, getting progressively quieter until he eventually trailed off as the awareness of how strange this all must seem to her hit him, along with the realisation of how much he was overreacting. He pulled back, blushing furiously and refused to meet her gaze. The hand underneath his chin gently pushed his head up until d’Artagnan had to look at her, finding Constance to be smiling up at him rather than wearing the expression of chagrin he was expecting.

“Hey now, look at me come on. I’m fine see” Constance said coaxingly, no hint of mockery in her tone. The hand that had been holding his cheek dropped to rest on his arm, and once the blood rushing in his ears had quietened he became dimly aware she was speaking again.

“Sorry, what did you say?” 

“They caught him; Athos was round here just a few minutes ago. Everyone’s okay, we’re all safe.” She was still smiling reassuringly and it was true, Constance was fine and d’Artagnan felt a tiny bit less silly.

“I just thought the worst, maybe I overreacted a little. I’ll just go now” d’Artagnan said slowly as he headed towards the door.

“Oh come here you stupid man” Constance laughed, pulling him into another hug. He bowed his head into her shoulder as she scolded him for worrying, then turned to place a kiss on her cheek. It lingered for just a moment, and he pulled back before Constance said anything. In reality he knew she wouldn’t, and neither would he. Nor were they going to acknowledge the small touches or glances that passed between them, or the fact that he had run across the city because of the possibility that she may have been harmed. All of these things went unmentioned as d’Artagnan finally pulled away from her embrace. They were matters for another day. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thought the pairing deserved something written about them, will upload the second chapter as soon as I can. Hope you enjoyed it!


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